


Night Visiting

by why_the_nightingale_sings



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M, Fenton's really hot, I needed to write this, Kevin's a cutie, PWP, Sex, but Fenton, dubcon, first person POV, purposely ambiguous POV, shameless sex, so hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:43:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_the_nightingale_sings/pseuds/why_the_nightingale_sings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the day, Fenton's not quite ready to leave again. The Irish bad boy wants to have a little bit of fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Visiting

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from a traditional Irish song. Lyrics can be found here: http://celtic-lyrics.com/lyrics/353.html

At first, I didn’t know what it was that woke me up. The night was quiet, our bedroom was quiet. The moon was shining through the curtains of our window and nothing seemed to be out of place. Sure, the bed next to me was empty, but that was a sacrifice of dating an officer of the law, there were late nights and paperwork and ungodly levels of stress, but I had grown used to it. It certainly didn’t wake me up at night. And I was awake. Completely and utterly awake, on edge and tight with something I couldn’t name. Every inch of my body was on alert and I sat up slowly, combing the hair from my face as I looked around our bedroom, confused. It was then that I felt it. A dark presence, something cold lurking at the edge of my thoughts and sight. I turned my head to our open doorway and saw a figure leaning against the frame, hands carelessly stuffed into jeans pockets.

I blinked and asked, my voice soft and scratchy from sleep, “Kevin?”

A soft breath of laughter. Hardly a motion from the figure leaning so lecherously against the wood. “Not tonight, darlin.”

I went very still. He spoke with a voice I barely recognized; cool, soft, velvet, more than a hint of an Irish lilt to his words. I knew the voice, but not the timbre. It was a voice that screamed danger and sin. It brought memories of a story of another man, a man Kevin had told me was gone and had been for seven years. A name surfaced from the haze of long-ago memories, a name muttered only when the sun had gone down and the alcohol had been flowing freely, but only in the softest of whispers. A name of a man Kevin had promised was buried and gone and no longer a part of his life. I hesitated to speak it, for to speak it was to give life to a shadow that had haunted Kevin for seven years, no matter how much he swore he had forgotten. 

“Fenton?” I said at last and the moonlight shining from behind me gave enough light for me to see the lifting of his cheek as he smiled a cold, snake’s smile. 

“That’s right, sweetheart.” His body flowed into lithe movement and he prowled, no other word to describe it, _prowled_ towards the bed. I couldn’t help it, I shrunk away from the vibes rolling from his shadowed face and pulled the comforter up around me, feeling his eyes rake over my body as he paused at the side of the bed, his shadow falling over me as he moved to stand in front of the window. 

“What have you done with Kevin?” I asked, somehow able to keep the fear from my voice, though it was a little softer than I would have liked. I heard the smile in his voice when he replied.

“He’s fine, darlin. Don’t you worry your pretty head about him.” 

“Where is he?” There, that was a little stronger. I looked up at him, clutching the comforter tightly around my chest. The languid shrug of his shoulders that he gave should not have been half as sexual as it was. He reached down and his fingers carelessly stroked my cheek with a touch that felt almost like Kevin’s, but was too harsh and too raw to be his.

“Beyont.” 

Something about his cool Irish slang and casually vague dismissal made my mouth go dry as I looked up at him, feeling his fingers comb through my hair. He shrugged out of his jacket, dropping it to the side as his eyes stared hungrily down at me. “You’re a pretty one. Little Kevin’s done well, finding a fine thing such as yourself for an oul doll. I dunna think he’ll mind sharin tonight.”

And his hand twisted in my hair, tilting my head back, and faster than I could process, be bent down and pressed his lips roughly to mine. I couldn’t keep back the gasp that rose from my throat to be swallowed by his lips and the comforter dropped away from my chest as I placed my hands on his strong shoulders…to push him away or draw him closer, I still do not know. There was a certain allure about him and an excitement that curled low in my stomach as his other arm slipped around my waist, pulling me against him. His hands were strong and sure as they pressed me back against the pillows, his body following, sliding against me, filling my nose with the scent of his clothing and his body. His thigh fitted between mine and when my lips parted to make a sound, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in to dance dizzyingly with mine.

He pulled away to suck in a shallow breath that really should not have been as sexual at it sounded, low and desirous in my ear as his tongue flicked out to tease at the curve of my jaw and I sighed his name.

“He said,” I breathed, trying so very hard to string together coherent thoughts as Fenton caressed my skin with his lips, his hands stroking my waist and pulling my hips flush against him. “Ke-Kevin said you were gone…seven years, he said. It’s b-been seven years. Why now?”

“I was needed,” Fenton smirked against my neck, his fingers lifting my chin so he could see my eyes. His face was still cast in shadow, but I knew his smile, the smile that spread across his lips as he muttered, “Have to say, it’s nice to be back.”

“How long are you going to stay?”

I caught a flash as the moonlight gleamed on his teeth and a shiver ran through my body as he murmured, “Long enough.”

And he pressed his lips to mine again, combing his fingers through my hair. He breathed my name in his Irish lilt and I was lost. He unzipped his sweater and pulled it off, tossing it to the side and yanking my legs around his hips, dragging me up to his mouth again, his hands in the sides of my head, holding me firmly against his chest. He buried his face in the curve of my shoulder and I whispered his name like a prayer, over and over as he pulled me closer against him. But it wasn’t close enough, there were still too many layers. I pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it quickly as his hands pulled the straps of my nightdress away from my shoulders, following them with his mouth as I slipped my arms free and helped him tug the silk and lace down around my hips and then off completely. 

He looked down at me, trailing his fingers down my cheek and chest, cupping my breast as a smirk curled his lips and his thumb tweaked over my sensitive nipple as he pressed a harsh, rough kiss to my mouth, pulling my hips against his so I could feel his arousal press against the lace of my panties and I arched against him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling myself closer. He whispered my name between kisses. My hands dropped to undo his jeans and he pulled away to shuck off the remnants of his clothing, the moonlight shining from the window highlighting the planes of his body as his fingers slipped under the band of my panties, pulling them off with a roughness and haste which took my breath away. He kissed me again, harshly, making me dizzy. 

I heard the sound of a package tearing and latex snapping. I peered up at him through my lashes and watched him prepping himself and the way he watched my chest rise and fall with my quickening breaths. He loomed over me, grabbing my hands and pinning them to the mattress by my side. I throbbed with need, pleading with my eyes, murmuring his name and using my knees to draw his hips closer. Without a word, smirking, he entered me, sliding inside with one firm, sure thrust of his hips. My eyes fluttered shut at the delicious feeling of being filled and felt his breath against my neck, his lips pressing against my skin where my pulse thrummed just beneath the surface.

“Fenton,” I moaned and arched as he began to move, his hips rolling and pumping, setting a pace that bordered on too fast and too brutal, but I loved it. My body was on fire under his touch and his lips. I wanted, _needed_ more. He released one of my hands as he combed his fingers through my hair and I raked my nails across his back, bringing a groan from his chest as his grip on my wrist loosened enough for me to drag my fingers through his cropped hair, pulling his head back for a kiss as I ground my hips back against him, drawing a hiss from his throat as he thrust deeper, angling his hips up to strike against my sweet spot and I cried out, throwing my head back, baring my neck to his mouth. 

Oooh, he was working the bad-boy sex appeal. As sweet and adorable as Kevin was, Fenton was dark and cold and dangerous and I _loved_ it. I was more vocal than I’ve ever been and he loved it, growling filthy things in my ear in a mixture of English and Irish slang in the musical accent of the Emerald Isle which made my toes curl and my spine tingle. A sheen of sweat shone on his body, gleaming on his shoulders as they shifted and rolled with every thrust of his hips and ripple of his muscles. I dug my nails into his shoulders, moaning his name, scratching at his flesh and trembling under his touch. His hands, strong and long-fingered, were everywhere, and our tongues danced in a wild kiss.

His wiry arms suddenly yanked me up against his chest, biting at my neck as he twisted his fingers through my hair, thrusting up into me mercilessly as I writhed in his arms, throwing my head back and crying out as he struck my sweet spot again and again. His arms crushed me to him and he grunted a curse as he came suddenly, gripping my body hard enough to leave bruises as he squeezed his eyes shut and I watched the orgasm rip across his handsome face. His hips stuttered and he pulled out, taking a moment to rid himself of the condom, tossing it into the trashcan at the other end of the room. I whimpered, looking up at him, and he breathed a soft laugh, gripping my chin in his fingers and looking down at my flushed face. 

“I’m not so cruel as to leave ya…achin like that,” he smirked, “drippin for more. Ye don’ want that, do ya?”

“No, Fenton,” I mewled, clutching at his waist, trying to draw him back on top of me to soothe the fire in my core, “please…”

“I suppose I could leave ya to Kevin,” he mused tortuously, “waitin for him to come back and finish ya proper.”

“No,” I fairly shrieked, reaching up to hook my hand around his neck, “Fenton, please! I need you! Don’t leave me like this!”

He pinned me to the mattress before I could speak another word, his blue eyes shadowed and dark as he growled, “Have you ever begged like this for him? Have you ever pleaded for Kevin to give you release?”

“No,” I whispered, my body thrumming at his touch and burning with need. “Never.”

He smirked, “Of course not. He’s too sweet to leave such a lovely woman in such torment. I’ll ya somethin Kevin’s never given ya.”

“Please,” I whined, desperate for release. A wicked spark twinkled in his eye as he slid down my body, his hands strong on my hips, keeping me still as his tongue flicked over my swollen clit. Instantly, I arched and tried to press my hips up against his mouth, but he only chuckled and held me still, mouthing at my clit and teasingly using his tongue to bring me to the edge again. I moaned wantonly, praying his name and twisting my fingers in my hair, feeling his throat vibrate against me with his laughter as he sucked on my clit and I reached down to dig my nails into his hand where it held my hip, trailing over his skin to grip his hair and when his tongue pressed against my clit again, I cried out his name as I climaxed, my orgasm shuddering through my body as I trembled and tensed, riding out the waves of pleasure as he crawled back up to kiss me lazily. I could taste myself on his lips and tongue. 

“Sleep now, darlin,” he whispered liltingly in my ear as my eyelids fluttered in the hazy bliss of wonderful afterglow and he pulled the comforter over our sweaty, naked bodies. “You’ll have your Kevin back in the mornin.”

So, I nestled myself against his chest, letting him wrap his arms around me, and slept. When I awoke, the sunlight fell on his face. I blinked sleepily, looking up at him.  
“Kevin?”

His baby blue eyes fluttered open and, after a moment, he smiled his sweet smile. “Morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Simple Guide to Irish Slang:**
> 
>  
> 
> Beyont - any place that isn't the place you're in at the moment
> 
> Fine Thing - attractive man or woman
> 
> Oul doll - girlfriend (pronounced 'owl doll')


End file.
